


Disaffectionate Ice

by Blood_and_Smiles



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dark Christmas, Dubious Consent, Fighting, Human x Wendigo, I tried to be creepy, M/M, Monster - Freeform, OC x Random character, Relatively Vanilla, Sex, Violence, Wendigo, Wendigo Twink, festive, merry x-mas, non-fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:27:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28043145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blood_and_Smiles/pseuds/Blood_and_Smiles
Summary: Montana gets visited by a strange boy. Things go south.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Disaffectionate Ice

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know how this turned out, but I tried to make something a bit dark and festive. Hopefully it's enjoyable! Yes, I know it's not nearly as kinky as my last work, but I wanted to try something more mild this time around.

' ' Have a holly, jolly Christmas! It's the - the - the best time of the year! I don't know if there'll be snow, but have a cup of cheeeeerrrrrrrrrr… ' '

The music distorted a bit, before kicking back into its proper tune and tempo.

The fire roared cozily, with the drifting scent of gingerbread and holly swirling through the warm air of the house. Outside, of course, it snowed gently. The Christmas tree glimmered with all its garland, its ornaments, its lights, and all the neatly wrapped gifts sitting atop the skirt of the tree. Montana kicked back in his recliner, watching a Hallmark movie about the Christmas spirit, love, and job promotions. The usual, as every year dictated. He groaned into his glass of eggnog, sighing as the main character of the film expressed how they thought a side character was going to be late due to flight delays, but they ended up not being late. It was a used and tired trope, he thought to himself.

"Ugh… I wonder how long it'll take before she starts building snowmen with the guy's kids- OH YOU'VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME! I LITERALLY CALLED IT!"

He huffed, before taking another swig of the surprisingly smooth 'nog. He'd almost lost his surroundings in his plight to call out every movie trope. Luckily, a crack of thunder and a flash of cold lightning in the distance kept him shackled to his environment. Right. A forecasted snow storm would be coming through tonight. He got a small, giddy feeling in the area between his heart and throat. He loved rain, he loved snow. He liked the strength and soothing feelings he got when the storms raged outside, while he lazed cozily inside. If only he had friends to share the experience with. They'd be here tomorrow night, or so they'd said. He'd spent the last day or two finishing up the decorating, and today he'd treated himself. He made homemade gingerbread men, opened a fresh carton of eggnog, and as he sat on the reclining leather chair, blanket over his body, hot chocolate was in the process of being made. It was a matter of waiting until the liquid wasn't hot enough to burn him. 

And then… Out in the pines, beyond the lightless void of wooden limbs and frost, a scream. Pained. Blood-curdling. Filled with rage. It echoed around the home, sounding… not right. It caused Monty's eyes to widen, his heart to throb, and his skin to grow tight with goosebumps. He slowly set down his glass of eggnog, turning down the volume of the TV. Whatever it was, it sounded… not right. No, people don't scream like that. The snow seemed to come down heavier, blown by angrier, faster winds. Ten minutes passed, where Monty sat silent, his ears ringing from how hard they'd been listening. Nothing. He wished he could feel ease. But now that he looked to the left of the fireplace, out the window, he could see. The forest. The night. It was… so dark. No moonlight illuminated the branches. The snow didn't reflect any light, other than the orange glow of his home and all its festive decorations of faux bronze and brass. There were branches, yes. But it was so dark, he could only see a single layer of trees before it became a black void. What's more, his heart felt heavy, and his head felt… pierced. Like a sixth sense, where you simply know. But… He brushed it aside. Stowing away his fear, he stood now, walking to each set of blinds, closing them. To each set of curtains, he'd lower them as well.

' ' Rockin' around - the Christmas tree! At the Christmas party-hop! Mistletoe hung where you can see! Every couple tries to stop! Rockin' around - the Christmas tree! Let the Christmas spirit riiiiiing… ' '

"Great… Speaker's probably low on battery."

Click. He turned off the radio. Now, the only sounds were the crackling fire within the fireplace, the restored audio of the TV - he'd restored the volume - and the faint sound of steam from hot, hot liquid. And then… knocking. Slow. Heavy. Like they had to think before each knock. He listened for a moment. Silent. Then, he grabbed a robe and tightened it around himself. He didn't want to be seen in his underwear, after all. He had no clue who it could be - why they were here. He never thought about 'why?' though. He simply grabbed a plate of hot cookies and carried it with him to the front door. Tip-toeing. Of course, he didn't immediately open it. He… went to a window, barely opening the curtains with his index finger, peering into the dark of the night. The snowman out front seemed to wave in the night winds. Just as he'd let the curtains fall back down, letting them slide off of his finger, there was a crunch sound, and he opened them once more. He couldn't see anything out there, not a speck. But as he focused, straining his eyes, he could have sworn he saw deer antlers, maybe leg, a torso, something. And- the snowman was scratched? Deeply… Claw marks. A chill ran down his neck, hairs standing.

Knock… Knock… Knock… Right. Someone at the door. Slowly, he approached the door, quiet as the dead, his bare feet not making a single sound on the chilled wooden floors.

He grabbed the doorknob, opening it. Standing a meter in front of the door was… a young male. He wore rags. Well… not rags, but very messy, worn clothes. Tight-fitting jeans. A dull red hoodie with a grey pouch and sleeves. He was thin and tall, standing barely below Monty's impressive height. In the cold night, his hairstyle was clear to see. Long, unkempt and deep brown. It was knotted and clearly hadn't been touched by a brush. And then… the face. He looked down at the ground.

"Uh… Hey there." Monty spoke calmly. No response. "You… cold? It's a blizzard out there. At least, a blizzard is supposed to be coming." Still, quiet. The male stood there. Frozen in place, only barely swaying as he stared at the ground. A minute later, he seemed to come to life. Animated, but poorly.

"Yes! I'm so cold… Will you… Let me inside… Nowhere to st...ay..."

He wiped his mouth with his black gloves, which had seen better days. When he turned his head up, Monty had a good look now. The boy was… cuter. Eerie, though. But cute. His eyes, tired with bags under them, looked wide. They had the most unique red… Monty couldn't tell if it was the fireplace reflecting in the boy's eyes, but they seemed to dimly glow. His face, it was longer and more feminine than most guys. His smile was sharp. Alarmingly… And his eyebrows were slanted upwards, as if they had emotion. Perhaps they did. But what emotion? And his voice… It was medium-high. Slow. Methodical. But… strained. Like every word had to be thought about and performed.

"Yeah, yeah! Come in! I'll get you something to drink, pal, something warm. Here! Take a cookie, they're fresh."

He attempted to grab the boy by the shoulder, to guide him inside, but that smile quickly turned into a sharp grimace, and he jumped back an inch or two. Monty took a mental note. No touching.

"Hey, hey, sorry! I'll keep my hands off. Really though, come in! There's nothing good out there, man. I heard something bad out there, and I'm sure you did too. it's safer indoors."

Slowly… his grimace of anger flipped back into a smile of points and edges, and his eyebrows unfurrowed. He stepped into the house, Monty closing the door behind him, locking it. Both locks. Grabbing the plate of cookies, he turned around, only to be met with the boy staring at him. Up close, and out of the snow, he smelled like… forest. Leaves, wood… Something metallic. But the scent of gingerbread cookies wafted it away, replacing the odor with that of warm, festive sweetness and spice.

"Eeh- Uh. Here. Take one of these. They're good, I'd know. I made them myself."

The slim boy took one, lethargically. He stared at it for a moment, as Monty walked down the dim hallway, returning to the relatively large living room. In truth, the only lights in the house that were on were the kitchen lights. The living room was illuminated by a Christmas tree star, and by warm orange fire. He'd then stuff the entire cookie into his mouth, barely chewing it at all before it descended through his gullet. He liked it. He'd take more. Then… He'd follow Monty into the living room.

"Here, take a seat! You should warm right up, I've got a nice fire made!" Monty cheerfully announced. The only response he got was the wind strengthening, only to die back down. "Hey, um, allow me to introduce myself. I'm Montana. You can call me Monty! What's your name, pal?"

The boy slowly sat on the sofa, sitting atop a blanket. His head was fixated on the fire, eyes dazzled by the heat and flames. He couldn't really feel it. "Fl...orin… My name is… Florin."

"Nice to meet you, Florin. You stay here! I'll go grab us something to drink, okay?" Monty stood from his chair, walking into the kitchen. Cups and glass and things rattled, containers opening and closing, cream spraying… Meanwhile, Florin was on his hands and knees devouring each and every cookie on that plate, ferociously gnawing them in twain, pulling them apart and swallowing them almost whole. Soon, Montana returned with two large mugs, brimming with whipped cream and chocolate shavings. Florin was sitting on the couch, as he had been, still smiling.

"Here! Hot cocoa. I made sure it's not too hot, it's been cooling for a while! Try it!" He approached Florin, handing the messy boy the mug. It was still quite hot. He… raised it to his lips, pausing for a moment. Tilting the cup, he'd drink. And drink. And drink. Until the entire thing was gone. And then, when the cup was empty, he looked angry. "More…" he said, deeper now, more hostile.

"Uh…"

Florin frowned aggressively at Montana, to which Montana reacted with a small, confused smile. "Sure, sure dude! You can have mine. I'll just make more." Handing his own mug off to Florin, he'd turn back into the kitchen. He really did want to drink it, but his guest was so… pressuring. Florin gave this mug the same treatment, although a bit more desperate, chugging the entire chocolate beverage down in moments, heat be damned. He wanted more. It was good. When there was no more in this cup, he stood quickly, breathing heavily. Thin, black trails of vanishing vapors followed his footsteps, and the feeling he radiated was cold and heavy. He spoke now, quiet, secondary whispers surrounding his voice.

"Need… Mo...re….!" He whined angrily.

Montana… He backed away, growing frustrated. "Dude, chill, you've had enough. Just sit down, and-" He was interrupted by a growl and a snarl, both of which came from Florin. The boy was upon him now, smile amped up to 11, sharp as hell and dangerous. He was furious. He wanted more, Montana wouldn't give him more… He'd hurt Montana. Kill him. He drooled, hands clenching, his red irises growing redder, he raised a hand, preparing to strike. Until… He screamed out in sheer agony. He'd been stabbed in the cheek by… silver cutlery. The flesh of his cheek sizzled and steamed, every cell touched by the fork writhing in rending pain. A fork made of silver, sending him stumbling back into the living room, screeching, whining, crying. On the floor, he twitched and whined, bleeding some black and red liquid. The fork clattered to the ground, slapped away by Florin. It left a burn mark on his hand, which he began to lick and hide. It burned like the fire of the fireplace, except it was real for him.

"It burns… Burns… It bu...rns…" He whined through gritted teeth, panting. Each whine sounded as though multiple voices shared the pain, and they were filled with all manner of negative emotions. Most strongly… rage and sorrow.

"Dude, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to. You looked like you were about to attack me, and…-" Monty got a closer look at the wound he'd made. It… was burned? Silver doesn't burn normal people. But… it does burn monsters. This guy… "What are you…"

Florin crawled forwards, before doubling over in pain. Rolling onto his back, he'd make hard, cold eye contact with Montana. His body grew thinner… but longer. No fat was spared. Formerly, his frame stood at six feet. Now, he might've been seven. His fingers were longer now, more deadly. They ended in black claws. And, instead of human calves, he had the calves of a deer, with hooves for feet. His eyes definitely glew now, imposing and evilly. His teeth were thrice as deadly now, and atop his head, he had… antlers. They were sharp and jagged. 

"Holy sh-" Montana wasn't given a chance to finish his sentence before the wendigo leapt at him through the doorway, pinning him to the wooden floor of the kitchen. His snarls drooled saliva onto Montana's face, his monstrous maw snapping only centimeters away Monty's face. Just a bit closer, and Monty'd be eaten alive. But he was strong, barely enough to keep the wendigo at bay. He'd punch Florin in the face, sending the beast onto his back. It only kept him down for maybe one, two seconds before he rose again, screaming at Monty. Unfortunately, Montana had already grabbed a silver tray, and smashed it onto Florin's face, causing him to cry out in agony, crashing back down to the floor with burn marks on the entire left side of his face.

His cries, now, were softer. Less aggressive. He didn't leap back up, or hiss, or scream. This gave Monty a chance to take a breather.

"Listen here you… You asshole. You come into here, you eat and drink my offerings, and you try to bite my goddamn face off? Not gonna fly." He spoke breathily, frowning down at the wendigo. "So, deer boy. Why shouldn't I kill you right now? I'd be ensuring my safety."

Florin slowly crawled backwards, leaning up against the wall. The lower portion of the wall was made of cobblestone bricks, while the upper half was made of wooden planks.

"D...Don't… So hungry…" He quietly spoke.

"Oh. You tried to bite me because you were hungry, right? Freak." Monty said in anger.

"So...rry… Sorry… So sor...ry…" Florin spoke remorsefully. He'd generally never felt regret. Regret implied consequences, emotional, or other. After every kill, every meal, he'd never had consequences. But he was at risk of dying! He'd never been in a situation like this!

"Yeah, sure…" Monty groaned. And then, a silent pause. Florin was… still cute? When his teeth didn't threaten to bite your face off, he still looked cute. But… he was, proportionately, so frail and thin. So… unusual. He looked like he needed to be on an IV drip, but he hit like a truck. Being tackled by Florin, he had his wind knocked out for a second. He couldn't imagine himself surviving if he wasn't toned like he was.

"Tell you what. I use your throat and punish you a little. I don't kill you. You get to stay here for the night. Morning comes, and you go back to wherever you came from." Monty said. It was an offer Florin really couldn't decline. And so, the wendigo crawled over, slowly. He didn't really say anything. He just… accepted it?

"And if you bite me, I swear, I'll break an antler off and kill you with it." Montana threatened. Florin seemed to flinch at that remark, understanding full well not to bite. And so, Montana untied his robe, before pulling down his candy-cane underwear with his thumbs. Florin's ghastly pale face seemed to grow a little red. He sniffed Monty's crotch, before extending his tongue. It was unnaturally long. A slow, methodical lick. Inching his face closer to the tip, he looked up at Monty and raised his eyebrows. Did he have to? "Good… G-Good start. Keep going." The clearly dominant male said.

And Florin did. He opened his mouth, carefully inserting the Monty's member into it. Even if his body was cool to the touch, Florin had a warm, moist mouth. Monstrously tight throat. Montana let out a low moan as the monster boy took all 7 inches down his maw. But he was too slow. So he grabbed the wendigo by the antlers and began to force his head up and down at a faster pace. Florin didn't gag, didn't react. He only flinched because he thought Monty was going to hurt him again. But… no.

"Gllk… Ghm…"

Faster, deeper, sloppier. Florin's lips were wetted with his spit, and his throat was bulged with each tug and pull. Every half second, he got a face full of neatly trimmed pubes. Until… He was pulled all the way, until his chin touched Monty's scrotum, until there was no more left to take. Throb, throb, splurt, splurt, the wendigo took almost 8 ounces of hot jizz down his gullet, swallowing it all hungrily. And only minutes later was he permissed to slide off the meat shaft.

"F...Fuck, that was good… Nice work… But we're not done yet." Monty said, his shaft re-stiffening. "Undress, and lay down on the couch. On your stomach." He ordered, albeit gently. And Florin did. And Monty wasted no time laying on top of Florin, prodding the male's hole with his cock. Florin let out a quiet yelp, gritting his teeth as Montana slid inside.

"You're bony. But at least your skin is sorta soft… Ghh… Stop clenching so tight, and I'll slide in easier."

He pushed himself into Florin, millimeter by millimeter. Both of them groaned and huffed, especially Florin. His bony body wasn't really suited for being someone's bottom bitch, but… here he was. And his anus took every inch, squeezing on it like a vice. And then, all over again. Montana pulled out, only to force himself back inside. This slow motion continued for minutes, both of them finding what position they liked best. Finally, they settled, and Montana ramped up the speed, almost immediately making Florin begin to quietly gasp as their skin slapped together.

"Ahh… Ahh-! Fuck… Are all monsters tight like this?"

Once more, Montana repositioned himself. One arm around Florin's neck, the other gripping the wendigo's chin… As he rapidly penetrated Florin's tight hole with a quick pace, he grunted and groaned, while Florin huffed through gritted teeth. Soon, it was all a blur of lust and sweat. Finally, after almost half an hour of this rough treatment, Montana reached climax, as did Florin. Spraying their hot, thick loads, both of them collapsed. Florin onto the couch, and Monty onto Florin.

"Haah… Haha… Fuck… Goodnight, bud…"

Sitting back and relaxing for a moment, he had a plan. He'd store Florin in the garage, and he'd give him a blanket. First… handcuffs. He walked upstairs, into the master bedroom, and retrieved some handcuffs. This would ensure Florin didn't do anything. Next, grab a large and thick blanket, and he'd hoist the unconscious wendigo over his shoulder, walking over to a door an opening it. An empty garage. First, he'd set the blanket down, with the nude monster on top. Next? He needed to get the boy's clothes, and another blanket.

"What a night…"

Leaving the garage for the living room, he'd snag a spare blanket, picking up the boy's clothes off of the floor as he did so. But, when he returned to the garage, Florin was gone. The blanket had been shredded, and the garage door wide open. And Montana saw the darkness. Snow fell, and trees swayed. Darkness encompassed the world outside. And in that darkness, two red orbs stared at him from the void.

' ' Jingle bells, Jingle bells! Jingle all the way! Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh ' ' 

The speaker resumed playing, and Montana shivered. He slowly closed the garage door, locking it with a padlock. Then, closing the door he'd entered from, locking it too. Sitting down on the recliner… He'd turn down the volume and simply listen to the world outside. He could hear them now. Screaming. This time, more than one. Many screams, many howls. Tree branches snapping. Montana felt a dread creeping up his spine. But as the screams faded over the course of 30 minutes, so too did his mind, and he eventually fell asleep in the recliner, fire dying as he laid.


End file.
